


Lavender

by CaffeinatedPokedex



Series: Conqueredstuck [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Apocalypse, End of the World, Gen, Petstuck, Reverse Petstuck, conqueredstuck, petstuck (reverse)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedPokedex/pseuds/CaffeinatedPokedex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So you're not really a very normal girl, but you're not living a strange life by any means. You and your sister are just trying to survive one day to the next. Then survival becomes a little more literal when the invasion starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You are Rose Lalonde, and at almost 14 years old, you’re already taking junior classes in high school. Surprisingly, your difficult class load is the least of your problems, and definitely not the most stressful aspect of your life.

A year ago, Your oldest brother left for Texas with your twin, leaving you and your baby sister behind with your awful aunt. You don’t begrudge them this, you wish you could go too, but someone had to stay back and look after Roxy. The Furthest Ring knows your aunt won’t.

You are secretly checking your aunt’s computer right now (you have no computer of your own, and otherwise would have to walk thirty minutes to the library). Your aunt is conveniently drunk in the bathroom right now, so you can pretty safely check your paypal account without being slapped for being caught on her computer. You should probably go check on her again soon. 

Quietly tapping in your login information, you smile softly as you see what you were hoping for.

_Payment Received_  
Sent by: Dirk Strider (sender verified)  
Payment sent to: tentacletherapist@hotmail.com  
Total amount: 50.00 

_Subject: Lil’ Sis  
Note: Hope this gets you through the rest of the month._

Your aunt forgot to buy any food when she blew her last paycheck on booze, so you have to go grocery shopping. You’re hoping to do it surreptitiously after school. She would question how you got this money, and you can’t risk her finding out you have a paypal, let alone a (possibly illegal) bank account.

Looking at the time, you frown and quickly log out of everything and clear your cookies. Not that your aunt is particularly good at conducting investigations, but if she did find out you were on your computer, you’d be done for. Better safe than sorry.

You shutdown the computer like it had been before you started, and run to check on your aunt. Oh no, she started vomiting while you were gone. She doesn’t seem very with it as you pull back her hair into a ponytail and rub her back. You check her pulse, it’s going strong. Checking her over, you’re pretty sure she just drank too fast and upset her stomach. Oh well, you’ve got to get to school.

Running into your room, you pull Roxy’s blanket away and announce,” It’s already 6:50, the bus will be here any minute.” You live very far from school, so walking is not an option. Being driven in is also not an option. “We’re going to have to stop to get groceries after school, too. I’ll see if the Jansens will give us a ride back. Could you bring your big bag?”

You both have backpacks that you have set aside for when you need to store a few days worth of clothing or other such things. She sighs dramatically, as she is prone to doing, at finding out she will have to be dragged along for at least an hour as you get your money out from the bank and shop, then attempt to get a ride back home.

“Extra pair of clothing in case?”

“Yes, that would probably be for the best.” If you can’t get a ride home, you’ll have to spend the night in Wal-mart and hope no one notices. Your aunt may just be preoccupied enough to miss the fact you didn’t come home. Your classmates will be a lot more observant. 

Roxy groggily gets ready, and packs little in the way of school work. With trained perfection, she twirls her bangs and bobby pins the gorgeous spiral in place. It kind of impresses you to this day how good she is at it; she doesn’t even need a mirror. You’ve never been very good with hair, thus you’ve always kept it simple and just manage your hair with your purple hairband. It’s a bit plain, but you like it, and it keeps your hair from frizzing out of control. Definitely a plus.

You urge her to hurry up as you hear the bus squeak to a stop. They’ll only wait a minute, and then you are squarely S.O.L.

She takes the time to find her game boy, which is quite difficult with how messy you both are, and thus how absolutely messy your room is. “Roxy! We’re going to be late.”

“Leave without me then,” she goads, sticking out her tongue.

With a sigh, you reason,” You know I can’t bring enough groceries back in one backpack.” You help her find the blasted contraption and pull her through the door to the awaiting bus. 

When the two of you board, you ignore the jeers and aggressive looks of all the other kids. You’ve always been different, and being smarter than all of them just made it worse. You don’t really mind all that much, or at least you don’t let yourself think you do. 

It bothers Roxy though, and you always feel a little guilty of that. She has always been known as the goth freak’s little sister, no matter where you lived. Dave had no trouble being the freak’s twin, though it always made him try twice as hard to be cool. Sitting in the single empty seat at the back of the bus, Roxy faithfully sits with you. She never leaves you to sit alone though it would be easier on her. You think she would have more friends if she did. 

You immediately pull out homework. You had put pre-calc off since you didn’t have it until 6th period. Meanwhile, Roxy pulls out her pearl pink SP and begins playing _The Chamber of Secrets_. That and _Pokémon_ eat up most of her time.

The trip to school is an uneventful one. The school day is also uneventful. Your life could probably be described by the most eloquent poet as ‘dull’. 

When the whine of the school bell frees you, you quickly find Roxy- not a hard feat when she is possibly the only human being capable of wearing that much pink- and say,” If we make haste, we can catch the city bus at stop four.” Marco drives on thursdays, and you know he’ll give you a free ride. 

She quietly follows as you briskly lead the way. Roxy doesn’t complain when you get to the bus stop, only to see the bus leaving, but she does sulk the whole way to the bank. Twenty minutes later, you make it there and withdraw the money.

When you make it to the grocery store, you consult your mental list of what will last you while still fulfilling nutritional needs. First off, you’ll need rice, and lots of it, alongside oats for oatmeal. You’re pretty sure you have soy sauce at home, but you should pick up syrup. Canned fruits and veggies, nothing can require refrigeration, because you don’t know if you’ll get home anytime soon.

You only grab two baskets, because if the two of you can’t carry it around now, then you won’t realistically be able to do it later.

With a small smile, you give in to Roxy begging for some box of junk food. You shouldn’t waste money on this, but you want her to be happy. When you check out, you’re happy to find you still have $11.56 left. 

Not enough for a cab, but more than enough for a payphone. Dropping in the change, you listen to the little clinks that let you know you can go ahead and press the buttons. From memory, you quickly punch in Sally Jansen’s home phone.

When the other line picks up and their father speaks, you’re relieved you won’t have to talk to Sally. She’s nice enough, but she goes out of her way to make you and your sister feel bad for your situation. “Hi, Mr. Jansen? It’s Rose.”

He wants to know who you want to talk to, and you reply,” Well, I was just wondering if you or Mrs. Jansen could pick me up. Roxy and I need a ride home.” He says oh sure, he’d be happy to help! 

“Thank you, we really appreciate it. We’re at the grocery store.” It says something about how smalltown you are when “the grocery store” leaves no doubt as to where you are.

Taking your groceries out of the establishment, you stand at the main entrance waiting for Mr. Jansen. Roxy trails behind, having mastered the skill of playing her game boy and walking at the same time. The Jansens live in town, so it’s only minutes before their nice car pulls up.

Making sure to be very polite and gracious for the twenty minute drive home, the two of you get out and wave goodbye like nothing odd is going on here. As soon as his car is out of view, you quickly shove all the groceries into your backpacks. Roxy hides her game boy, you hide your sweater you modded yourself. You’re both so well trained in hiding your whole lives, it makes you wonder if you actually know anything about Roxy.

Entering the front door quietly, you sigh in relief when you don’t encounter your aunt. You quickly escape to your shared room, but Roxy goes elsewhere. Taking out your journal, you continue the prose you had been working on throughout school. You have suspicions that Roxy writes too, but you’ve never actually caught her doing it.

You never actually see her doing much of anything else aside from playing her game boy. For the student body pegging you as the “mysterious one” you think she is actually has a lot more hidden.

You only allow yourself 30 minutes of writing before moving on to your strenuous workload for school. You’re smart enough to get into these classes, but not enough to actually do well if you don’t spend an average of four to five hours on the homework every night. It’s so frustrating. You feel like all of your time goes to learning, and yet you always are stumbling just behind the rest of your class. It makes you feel dumb, and that’s probably why you put so much effort into using sesquipedalian words. Something to add to your profile; keeping a psychological profile of your friends would be unethically selective if you didn’t keep one on yourself. 

When Roxy returns to your room, it is long past dark outside and you can’t rein back the older sister in you. “It’s a school night. You should be getting ready for bed.”

“Are you going to accuse me of being a meso... whatever vampire again if I don’t?”

“Mesonoxian vampire, and we both know that wasn’t an accusation. I was likening you to one. The pinkest one ever, I recall adding.”

“Same difference,” she decides and jumps into bed, throwing the covers over her head to signal this conversation is over.

You roll your eyes and finish your homework for the night. Getting ready for bed, you shut off the lights and try to fall asleep. The test in American History tomorrow occupies your brain with dates and names to the point that you might as well label this attempt at sleep a full on review. Sleep eventually comes, but not nearly soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s lunch time, and your school is so small that elementary, middle, and high school grades eat together. You happen to be walking towards the line of food acquiring when you see Roxy over by the donation box. School is constantly holding a food drive, and you wonder what Roxy is doing over there.

You wander over and realize that she is adding cans of canned pumpkin to the box. Nostrils flaring, you march over and ask in a hushed whisper,” How did you get those? We did _not_ buy those.”

Concern raises her eyebrows and you can tell by her stuttering, pauciloquent attempts at excusing herself, that she did exactly what you think. Making sure no one is paying attention, you grab her bicep and briskly pull her off into the girls bathroom.

“What do you have to say for yourself?!”

“No one was donating, and they need food.”

“We’re the needy,” you remind her. You’re trying to be calm, but it’s hard to when you find out your little sister is a thief. Even if she is Robin Hood, this is not acceptable!

“But we have Dave and Dirk… They don’t.” She jerks her arm away from your grip. “I’m just trying to help!”

“We can’t afford to be magnanimous.”

“You can’t afford to be a thief with your shining future,” she corrects you,” but I’m going to feed some starving people if it costs me my future burger flipping job.”

She storms out, leaving you shocked. You’re not trying to be her enemy or hurt her… you just want the best for her. 

You aren’t hungry for lunch any more, and the rest of the school day drags impossibly slowly. You aren’t looking forward to the bus ride home. 

When it comes time, you board the bus just like always, stared at by everyone until you manage to sit in the back. At first you worry that Roxy isn’t coming home when you don’t see her. Guilt gnaws at your stomach along with the hunger. She steps into sight looking a little frazzled just as the bus readies to shut its doors.

“Sorry,” she apologises to the bus driver. “Almost didn’t finish my lab in lab skills.”

The bus driver doesn’t care, and Roxy rolls her eyes and steps into the main aisle. Her eyes dart from side to side, and you can tell she’s trying to decide where to sit. You sigh and lean your head on the window. Way to go, Lalonde. You’ve alienated your sister, the only person you talk to at school.

She walks up to some nobody and asks him if she could sit with him. He enthusiastically scoots over and moves his stuff so she can sit there. She gets along with people so well if she just tries. You don’t understand why she usually sits with you. Maybe you’ve broken that trend. Maybe she’ll be happier now.

The bus ride can’t be over soon enough, and you spring to your feet while the bus is still rolling to a stop. Let the driver scold you, you don’t care. You just want off this bus. Barreling past Roxy, you stalk to the place you reside, definitely not home by any means.

~~  
~~

Your aunt is out at the local bar, and that leaves the two of you happily free until bar close. Well, it should be happily, except you and Roxy are fighting. Correction, you’re fighting and she’s just playing her game boy and egging you on with snarky comments. 

You’re just trying to get her to understand that you do what you do for her. You’re life is so hard, and you spend so much of your time worrying about her and looking after her. “Would you pay attention if you’re going to sling around insults?”

“No,” she flippantly answers, snapping a bubble with her gum. She clicks rapidly, and you can tell she’s more focused on getting through the conversation bubbles than listening to you.

In frustration, you reach out and grab onto the game boy, trying to pry it out of her grasp. “Give the game a rest for just ten minutes and listen to me!”

The unthinkable happens as you grapple for the contraption. As she finally loses grasp, it catapults out of control and spins to a sickening crunch against the tile floor. “Oh! Roxy! I-”

“Those were my only friends!” She cries out, tears springing to her eyes.

“I d-didn’t mean…” Her words register, and you protest,” And what am I?!”

“Some recluse who spends all her time computing the world’s databases on every damn subject.”

“Oh, real funny comparing me to a computer when your only supposed friends are composed of ones and zeros.”

“Well at least they ask how I’m doing, even if it’s just a yes or no question. You just boss me around and mother me on what you think would make me more respectable. You don’t care how I feel. It’s all survival. A checklist of is she fed, has she slept, or whatever. Maybe I want to spend time playing soccer or talking about boys or gushing over the newest hit album. It would kill you to tear yourself away from your studies for even a second.”

Breaking into tears, she pushes passed you and absconds to your shared room. When the door slams, you hiccup over a sob you’re trying to keep back. Tears come forth anyways, and you sink to the floor. Hugging your knees with one arm, you reach out to the game boy and the grey game that was ejected in pieces.

What she said wasn’t false, you glumly decide as you think back over the last year. Dirk applied for emancipation at the earliest opportunity. Along with that complicated court business, he applied to gain legal guardianship of you guys. With the lengthiness of the court system, he was even possibly eligible by the time his appeal was addressed.

You and Dave were decided to be old enough to choose your fate, but Roxy was forced to stay behind. You don’t regret staying to take care of Roxy, even if she doesn’t appreciate it. You do miss Dave and Dirk though.

Dave used to be the one who really took care of Roxy while Dirk was off at one of his odd jobs and you were busy with classes. If he did get stressed out by it, then he never showed it. Unlike you. You poke at the game boy again, guilt roiling in your stomach.

Dirk would probably be able to fix this. It doesn’t look too broken, like none of the pieces are actually crushed, just all apart. Taking the game boy into your hands you turn it around in your hands. It looks like this piece fits there… and probably lines up with that…

Carefully scooping up the pieces of the game boy and the three pieces of _Silver_ , you make your way over to the computer desk. Booting up the computer, you go collect screwdrivers and glue and other conceivably useful tools while you wait for it to power up.

It takes hours of research to find the blueprints and guides on how to fix what you don’t even initially know is wrong. You jam your thumb against the table at one point, trying to force something into place, and you cut your finger on another part. Fixing the game is a lot easier since it seems to just be two halves which you have to tape the battery in place before closing.

As you finally figure this all out, you start yawning more and more frequently. Your eyes start drooping as you finagle pieces into place and start screwing and taping stuff together. You’re out for the count when you finally snap the casing closed.


	3. Chapter 3

“W-what do you… think you doing?” A loud and slurred voice rudely awakens you.

Waking with a start of panic, you look to the clock in the bottom on the screen and see it’s almost eleven on a Saturday. Shit! Scrambling to hide the game boy and the tools you used to fix it, you curse as you drop a screwdriver loudly.

“Who’s computer is that?”

“Yours, m’mam,” you answer, as you try to pick up the screwdriver. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“NO! … excuses, little lady,” your aunt scolds, almost falling and catching herself against the desk. Her voice hitches as she tries to continue,” You ARE in… Trouble so…What’s this?” She takes the game boy from you and your chest tightens. You just spent so much time working on that. All of your effort is about to wasted, and Roxy will never even use it.

Lurchingly getting closer to you so she can look you in the eyes, she thumbs at one of the thick, black smudges lining your face. Grimacing, she examines her digit and remarks,” You look like... shit more so than usual. Hope this isn’t new look.”

You avert your gaze and bite your lip. You don’t dare comment on her disapproval of your fashion sense or try to explain why you look like a girl stood up at prom.

Looking passed your aunt, you see Roxy peek into the room. Her face momentarily lights up with an idea and then resumes a serious mein. Walking up to the two of you, she enthusiastically says,” Oh, good. You did fix it. I told Libby you could!”

Easily snaking the handheld out your aunt’s grip, Roxy continues with her charade and claps you on the back. “Good job, sis.”

Playing along, you reply,” Yeah, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she made it out to be.” Looking your aunt straight in the eye, you unblinkingly say,” Libby promised me five bucks if I could fix it. I thought that I could buy you some pecan pie with that money.” Smiling softly, you look to Roxy and finish,” We know it’s your favorite. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

With a shocked “oh”, your aunt rocks back and ties to catch herself. “That’ssosweet… I’m surprised.”

Roxy lies through her teeth and insists,” We love you, auntie.”

With pleased laughter, she sighs,” You kids... aren’t NEArly so wretched now yerbrothersleft.”

Biting your lip so you don’t undo this patched up facade, you nod and say,” One rotten apple spoils the rest.”

“Well, I’m off’ta bed now…” She staggers through the house to her room and you let go of a shaky breath of relief.

Looking back to Roxy you are rewarded with a heartwarming expression of gratitude. Tears are gathering in her eyes, and she’s biting her lip excitedly. “Rose! OMG, it’s-”

“I couldn’t save your old data,” You apologise. “And the B button is weird now, and-”

Wrapping you up in a huge hug, Roxy assures you,” I’ll make new friends and I’ll just have to talk to Joy slower.”

You reciprocate the hug and rest your chin on her head. You’re really glad she’s so happy. That makes all of it worth it... Even if you do have to waste money on pie now. Brushing her hair with your fingers, you softly say,” I’m sorry I’m not there for you more often. I do get caught up in studies.”

“No, I’m sorry. You do so much for me, and I guess I just get sick of our home life, but you make it so much better.”

“How about we’re both sorry and both grateful that the other puts up with our shit?”

She giggles and pulls away enough to nod. “Sounds good to me.” Licking her thumb, she rubs away a bit of your mascara. “You look like you joined the Black Parade.”

Pulling away with a look mock horror, you stick out your tongue. “It took me like 10 minutes to do this eye makeup,” you joke.

“Looks fab,” Roxy says with a wink, and you both laugh.

Suddenly, the tri-toned trill of your city’s hurricane alarm goes off.

“It’s not hurricane season,” Roxy remarks, and you too were just thinking that.

Reaching for the remote, you flip on the TV. Every station, of the admittedly few you have access to, is showing the same footage of strange dark shapes hovering through the sky and the west coast being decimated.

“That’s where John lives!” You cry as they show a brief glimpse of a completely void field of broken cement labeled “Maple Valley”. You stagger to the couch abstractedly, your eyes never leaving the screen. City after city is shown to be decimated, and the camera the news station is following shorts out more than once.

_”This just in, what seemed like only science fiction is now a grim truth of the present and the future only looks darker. No invasion has been reported thus far, but officially sighted UFOs are clearing out huge segments of the west coast. Also, reports of large scale destruction in Novosibirsk, Russia, Berlin, Germany, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, La Paz, Bolivia, N’Djamena, Chad, and Alice Springs, Australia. More reports are flowing in-”_

“Rose… This has gotta be some _War of the Worlds_ bull. There’s no way that’s actually happening.”

The alarms don’t stop for a good forty minutes, dying down often only to start up two minutes later. You’re too stunned to do anything as watch the terror unfold. You aren’t even aware of how Roxy is taking it until she sits down beside you and grabs your hand for support. It’s almost an hour later and the reports just get grimmer.

“The lady just said sightings have been reported by Washington DC…” _and they’re heading north_.

“I guess we have to get supplies together then,” you calmly state.

~~  
~~

You don’t fall asleep that night, kept up thinking about what else you should get together. At around seven at night, your aunt comes stumbling out of her room massively hungover. “It took me forever to pass out this morning. Some asshole had an alarm on for like thirty minutes.” She has a hand over her forehead and looks ready to puke.

“That wasn’t an alarm, auntie. That was the hurricane warning,” Roxy informs her.

“And you wretches didn’t wake me up? Someone clean the bathtub, that should have been done hours ago.”

You set down the checklist you’ve been working on and with a deep, composed breath, you say,” There is no hurricane.” The tub has been disinfected and filled anyways though.

“Why would they sound the alarm then?” she grumpily asks, lurching to the couch.

“There’s been an alien declaration of war, I guess you could say.”

She looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you guess that’s not unwarranted. Eight hours ago, you didn’t believe in aliens that considered Earth important enough to bother with. You reluctantly grab the remote off the coffee table and switch the TV on. You really don’t want to see more devastation, but that’s the only way to be believed.

She watches on in horror just as you and Roxy had. Canada and the United States’ air forces united to take down the attack in Washington that started spreading outwards. They’ve held the country border, but Oregon and northern California are decimated. Reports of the ice caps being melted have come in, and you know that Pennsylvania and West Virginia will be the new north east coast soon.

“Roxy and I looked up how to make good disaster kits for floods and other emergencies and we’re almost done.” You have three five gallon pails filled with supplies, along with both your backpacks filled with extra warm clothes and blankets and some luxury items.

Your aunt looks at the pails, going a little pale herself. “Where are we going to go?”

“Well, we were talking, and we think we’ll stay here,” Roxy relays,” From what we’ve seen, aliens have been targeting groups of people, so out here in the middle of no where seems to be the safest.”

“All you need is your bag of clothes and blanket,” you say,” We got everything else.”

You return to your checklist you’d been running over before she woke up. She meanders off, presumedly to pack. Only seconds after, the electricity goes out. You knew it would happen soon. The aliens took out too many power grids around the country; they’ve collapsed the other power grids around them, creating a cascade of power outages. 

Dirk explained it to you once while you were you were helping him fix up the TV; you made a very good scrub tech for your poor, sick television set. You two used to discuss dystopian scenarios; he had the knowledge, and you had the book ideas that you wanted to write. You miss your little chats with him even though they were few and far between.

Roxy is quick to reach in her bucket and retrieve her flashlight, but you advise,” Save the battery power, let’s open all the blinds.”

She sighs and starts doing as you suggested. You help, and soon your house is filled with too much light as it streams through the impressive windows. Due to the usual hangovers of your aunt, your general dislike of bright light, and Roxy’s tendency not to mess with the status quo, the windows are rarely open. It’s a little weird to actually be able to see around the living room easily.

Roxy plops down on the couch and you lean on the bar counter. “We’re going to be okay, right?” She looks to you with wet eyes.

“Of course,” you insist, but you can hear the doubt in your voice.

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“We’re all packed, but what for what?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat. “Leaving the house seems pretty foolish, given the area will probably flood soon, but we’re preparing for the inevitable calamity.”

“So we’re stuck at home?”

“Until further notice. Though from what the TV showed…” The aliens may make quick work out of your county any moment. Other parts of the state have already been wiped off the map.

She doesn’t finish your sentence, and you’re thankful for that. Thinking about how you two might just be vaporised or gone in a blast makes goosebumps raise on your arms.

“We’re just going to be living here while the whole world burns around us,” she voices. “Or floods or whatever. We’ll be all alone.”

“Well, that is the point of isolating yourself from the rest of society,” you point out.

She rolls her eyes, and turns away from you. “Surviving sucks then.”

You sigh, because you have nothing to say to that. You guess you kind of agree.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has been a slow start, and this chapter is not much faster, but things are picking up for Lavender now. You'll see it in the upcoming chapters. Hope you're all enjoying the series!

A few weeks later, and you’ve fallen into a pattern. It’s night time, so your aunt is busy getting wasted on the couch, and Roxy is soaking the oats for tomorrow’s breakfast. You are doing your security check you have taken to every night. 

You close all the blinds and check that the traps you set up are not tampered with. Trip strings with cans, makeshift spears set up so that windows will break if opened from outside… Because your late mother was so eccentric, she built this house to hold up above the rising waters of the river. It’s survived the now several foot flood, and is probably the only stable building in a couple of acres. Roxy and you are worried you’ll find unwanted guests.

A crash of glass sends alarm through you, and you quickly abandon your round to check on Roxy and your aunt. “What’s-?” As you take in the scene, you see Roxy hiding behind the bar counter as your aunt leans over it haphazardly, a broken bottle gripped tightly in her hand. Broken glass is scattered on the floor just in front of Roxy, and moving her feet would surely result in a cut or two. Her expression holds fear, and bile rises in your throat.

You don’t need the whole story. Running to your aunt, you grab your knitting needles that were sitting on the coffee table and lunge at her. She is drunk enough, and you are angry enough, that she easily topples under you. Holding a needle threateningly to her face, you growl,” What do you think you are doing?” Only once before had your aunt’s hand slipped while she was really drunk. 

She had stuck Dave to the ground when you two were six, and Dirk had come at her holding a knife. He’d threatened that if she ever lay a hand on you guys again, he would personally fix the error in your mother entrusting her children to this filth. You never forgot the fear that held you in place, or the confusion at what was going on and how your older brother had been so very terrifying.

“That WRETCH suggested I… she tol’ me to stop drinkin’, that BITCH.” 

You jar her shoulders and warn,” Don’t you ever call her names again.”

Roxy stands up quietly and you only notice her when she tentatively says,” Please, it’s okay-”

“No, it’s not okay,” you firmly decide. “We have endured her abusive, malign _shit_ for years. We put up with everything, we tried so hard not to trip one of her outbursts, but we shouldn’t have to anymore.” You look directly at your aunt. “ We shouldn’t have had to ever, but especially now that we’re the ones keeping you alive,” you grit out in a spookingly controlled whisper.

The tequila on her breath makes your nose wrinkle in disgust as she says,” You not grateful child. I rised you… rosed you and for what?” Her slurring is concerningly bad. You’re a little worried by her inability to keep her eyes open longer than three seconds and the paleness of her lips that she may have drank her way to alcohol poisoning again, but only a little concerned. She’s proven time and time again that her level of alcoholism is basically the highest one can achieve. She was was once dropped off after a few days missing, holding hospital documents that she had her stomach pumped at .52% blood alcohol content.

You keep her pinned as she falls unconscious, then unmount her and leave her on her side so she won’t suffocate herself. Walking up to the bar, you offer a hand and detachedly suggest,” You should crawl over the counter so you don’t cut your feet. I can sweep it up.”

Accepting the hand up, she hops up and over the counter nimbly. Her smile is overwhelmingly positive, but her eyes are red rimmed and her shoulders are shaking ever so slightly. “Roxy…” You draw nearer, but you don’t know what to say.

“I’m fine,” she insists, sniffling and wiping an eye with her sleeve.

Unable to go the whole distance and smile warmly, you do scoop her up into a hug. “We’ll be okay,” you promise. You’ve been doing that a lot recently. You feel a little sick to your stomach lying so unsarcastically, so frequently.

“I was so scared,” she cries as she returns the hug. “I just- I just said we were running out’a triple sec and she should probably slow down and she swung at me. I thought she was going to hit me on the second swing.”

You pull away and then pull her to the couch. Sitting beside you, she plays with the hem of her skirt and looks to you as if she wants to ask you something.

“What?” you ask flatly.

“... What was mom like?”

You look away uncomfortably, but you think it would make her feel better to talk about Mom. You’ve always skirted the subject, and you guess Dave must have too. Dirk wasn’t around enough to regale the stories of her, and you guess you may be the only one left who _can_.

“Mother and I didn’t really see eye to eye. It always seemed like any accomplishment I made, she found a way to make me feel one upped. Which is silly, I was _five_ , but it still felt like that. I guess, looking back, I think I just didn’t understand. I mean, it’s hard to remember what I exactly felt then, since I’m not much older than you, but it doesn’t seem to line up with how I interpret her gestures in retrospect,” you say softly.

Crossing your arms, you continue,” In hindsight, I think maybe she was just very passionate. It came off as ingenuine, but I think I just didn’t believe someone could _care_ that much. I don’t know… maybe I’m thinking too much about it. I miss her, though, and I wish…”

You wish you could have told her you loved her. Ever since you could talk, you were rude to her. Sickeningly cute and proper towards her, but when you think back, you can’t remember once having told her you loved her or appreciated how hard she tried to keep you guys happy. A small frown pulls at your lips, but you force it away.

“What? What do you wish?”

“For world peace,” you deadpan and get to your feet. This conversation is over.

Roxy can tell, and she yawns over dramatically. “I guess we should head to bed, huh?”

“Help me drag her,” you bid. Whenever she passes out on the floor or in the tub, she always has horrible back pains for days. Your sister sighs, but takes her feet. On the count of three, you begin moving your aunt.

With her safely lying in bed, you and Roxy turn in as well. Early mornings mean you have the most time with light without wasting battery power.

“Rose…”

“Yes,” you huff, trying to get comfortable in your bed, and rolling so you face her.

“You were right. We will be okay. I know this probs comes off as a lil’ silly a’ me, but I just wanted you to know you the best. We’ll pull through this whole Waterpocalypse together.”

“You can’t just arbitrarily name the end of the world as you see fit,” you complain.

“Waterpocalypse is, like, the most technical jargon ma’bob this world can handle. I am for sure certified in the various ‘pocalypses that plague our good planet, I’ll have you know.”

With a small roll of your eyes and a subdued smirk, you admit,” Waterapocalypse does seem to suit the current situation in which we find ourselves.”

“Thanks for yer appreciation of my literary mastery, proper poet over here.” She pretends to accept applause gracefully. “Well, I’ma catch some Z’s then. Night, sis’.”

“Goodnight, Roxy. Sweet dreams,” you wish quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

You wake up to what sounds like splashing. Not the muted crash of waves that have started afflicting your surroundings, or the occasional tree that had survived the initial strike giving out and falling into the newly formed lake.

It sounded like somewhat hollow items falling into the lake in succession.

Getting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you are slightly concerned when you see Roxy is gone. She rarely gets up before you. Slipping on a sweater, it’s become quite cold with the increase of water and thus newfound lake side attributes, you go off to find her.

The sun is almost completely off the horizon by now, and you open curtains to take full advantage of the light. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but as you open one curtain, you can see Roxy’s silhouette on a balcony by what seems to be the source of the splashing sounds.

She lets loose another bottle and you hear the splash as dread drops in your stomach. You break out into an all out run, fumbling with a the door as you try to get outside and stop the scene. “Roxy! What do you think you’re doing,” you cry out as you set foot on the balcony.

She turns around with mute surprise as she drops a bottle in the lake. It calmly drifts away. With a big smile, she says,” Sorry sis’ if I woke you. Totes was trying to be quiet.” She chucks a smaller bottle and it goes quite a ways before making a barely audible _splish_.

“What are you doing,” you repeat urgently.

“C’mon, Rosey, yer supossed to be the smart one. Auntie has only been getting worse, so I’m throwin’ it all away!” 

“No, no, no!” you fumble as your hands find themselves pulling at your hair. “I know you mean well, but this is horribly thought out! Our aunt will have our heads,” you whisper frantically. Looking to the few bottles that haven’t sank, you legitimately consider diving in after them.

“Rose,” she scoffs, clearly affronted,” We can’t just let her be an alcoholic til the day she dies.”

“Yes we can!”

“She tried to beat me. You said it yourself that was not okay!”

“That’s- not…” You sigh as you hide your face in your hands. “I know we can’t let her do as she pleases, but I don’t want to harm her either.”

Roxy hesitates then asks,” What do you mean harm her?”

“We’re not prepared to take care of someone with severe alcohol withdrawal,” you answer.

Roxy looks mildly confused. “She’ll just have a really bad hangover, right?”

“Yeah, really bad like… seizures and uncontrollable vomiting and… I don’t know,” you admit. “I don’t know all the symptoms, but they’re a lot worse than just a hangover for someone who’s been an alcoholic over half her life.” You remember reading about it once, but now you’re without the internet and your resources are ridiculously limited.

“I didn’t know that. W-what are we going to do?” she asks, looking to the diminished pile of alcohol. She’s thrown all but three bottles of wine away. Enough to last your aunt about a day and a half.

“Well, she would have run out eventually anyways,” you sigh. It’s not like you can change what’s already been done. “We’ll just have to deal with it earlier,” you decide, bending down and picking one up to throw overboard. Looking down at the bottle you get the silly urge to break it. Like, how people used to christen new boats. This feels like the turning point in your personal life story though, like there’s no going back to how it used to be- you’re almost setting sail to a new life. 

“In this so aptly named waterpocalypse,” you begin, offering a hand down to Roxy to help her stand up by your side. “In which one’s home is no longer their castle, but their ship, I believe it’s time we name that vessel that has kept us alive. Though brief I will keep it, a small speech is in order.” Your sister hugs up to your arm, grinning and trying to rein back snickers. You’re not especially prone to silly acts, or at least you like to pretend you aren’t, but when it is time for one, you don’t hold back. Clearing your throat, you hold the bottle high and begin, “We have been plagued by much rain, in all forms of mist and down pour, and though once a curse of coming school, we have come to see the light shining upon this land as a blessing for the lessoned terror our alien invaders reign over us during the day.

“In the harrowed plight of those who survived their initial onslaught, we sisters of house Lalonde stand tall in the face of upcoming danger, both domestic and foreign, and stand united in our firm belief we will see the end to this sadness for human history. It will be but a scratch in an otherwise equally fucked up history, and probably one of the few times someone other than humans have given our race such a run for their money.

“Though we may not be the sole factor in the beasteous race’s comeuppance, we will not fall to them, and will patiently help the forces that deem themselves able to bring an end to this depravity. I, Rose Lalonde, will see to it myself that humanity’s fortunes will turn, and,” you look to your sister expectantly.

“I, Roxy Lalonde, will, um, promise to save- no that sounds dumb, do over- I will steal back what has been taken, and give it to the people who tries real hard and stuff!” she giddily adds, letting loose a few giggles.

“Yes, and with this fine ship as our place of refuge, we will grow stronger, more prepared for what turns and twines in our future. If a gentle stream were our timeline, surely these past few weeks would be the planted rock that causes small eddies to spin in confusion and cut at the banks with mystified fervor. I do not promise simpler crossing over the streams’ next curve, nor do I foresee less obstacles in any point of our life ahead of us, but like our grueling past, we shall course ever stronger every bend we survive.

“This fine ship is our guide into the future and what lies ahead of us, and fittingly I decree it’s new name to be… The Medium, as it is where we wait between what our lives had been and will be,” you finish. On your final word, you smash the bottle on the floor of the balcony. It’s been awhile since you had such a great opportunity to go on such a longwinded speech.

Roxy full on snorts and exclaims,” Rose, that was beautiful.” You get caught up in her laughter too. The two of you pick up the last remaining bottles and throw them over the edge of your newly named home.

As your speech made note of, it starts lightly raining as it has so often recently. You think it has to do with the last piece of news you saw, about the ice caps being melted presumably to promote flooding. Shivering, you suggest,” Let’s get inside before we catch a cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brevity may be the soul of wit, but Rose has noticeably missed that memo.


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m sorry,” Roxy repeats as she holds your aunt’s hair out of her face. Your aunt retches again.

You rub circles on your aunt’s back and reassure Roxy,” It would have happened sooner or later. At least she has us.”

Your aunt mumbles something nasty in response, but more retching cuts it short. You can’t help but wrinkle your nose as she vomits, and your own stomach stirs a little.

Last night, your aunt started shaking, and earlier today the trembles have worsened. You’re beginning to get really worried that you can’t provide the proper care… but who could you possibly go to?

Sitting back, she wipes her mouth and curses you both out.

Brushing the insults off, you suggest,” Why don’t we get you some water, auntie?”

She’s not coherent enough to fully respond, but you and Roxy help her sit back more comfortably and get her a glass anyways. Your tub is practically empty already… You’re going to need to set up a system of replenishing your water supply. 

The older woman seems miserable and anxious, as she has been for the last couple of hours. You suspect the sudden anxiety is a symptom of withdrawal. Sighing as you feel pity for her, you pout. This is the woman who has tormented you for over half your life. How can you possibly feel bad for her? 

Removing your beloved hairband, you slip it past her ears and secure her hair back. Her bangs were getting caught on her sweaty forehead and she wasn’t coordinated enough to properly swat them away. She’s panting and pale, and you think she should probably eat more.

“Roxy, why don’t you get some rice for her?”

“Why, she’s jus’ gonna throw it all up,” Roxy mumbles.

You shoot her a sharp look, and she rolls her eyes before going to do as you asked.

You sigh exhaustedly as you continue to try and soothe your aunt. It’s so draining how much you’ve put into taking care of her, before and now, and it feels unfair that you’ve had to be a more of a caretaker for her than she has for you and Roxy. 

You’ve finally gotten auntie to calm down and finish up enough to briefly sit back against the wall. Your empathy is reminded why you continue to care when you take a moment to really look at her. She’s sweating and enervated, clearly pained, and you can tell this is taking a lot out of her her emotionally too.

When Roxy finally comes back wit some rice, she sets to trying to feed auntie. Your aunt’s too delirious to feed herself right now, and getting food into her has been a struggle. Despite Roxy’s initial complaint, she shows obvious care as she slowly convinces your aunt to take nibble after nibble. 

The two of you must be bleeding hearts, but you feel she’s more genuine. She’s the one who would do anything to help, you get caught up in what’s convenient for you and worry about expending your resources.

The two of you get her tucked into bed eventually, but she just tosses and turns. 

“I can’t believe it’s been a month already,” Roxy comments as you both sit down on the couch, ready to eat your own dinner. Mmm, rice with canned peaches.

“Has it?” You haven’t been keeping track. There’s been so much to keep track of: how much you’re eating versus how much you have left, how things are changing outside on a daily basis and estimating how long before your house is flooded, watching for the invaders… You’ve been pretty stressed about it all, and what day on the gregorian calendar it is just seems like too small a detail in your life right now. Being reminded of your place in time does make you think more about its import though.

“I’ve been keeping track with little tallies. I can’t remember if we were in a thirty day month or a thirtyone day month though…”

“It was may, which has thirtyone days in it,” you fill in.

“Then it’s June, uh, twentysixth,” she says less than confidently.

“I wonder what merit keeping track of the calendar holds, now that virtually no one else will be left to do so with.”

Roxy shrugs, but offers,” To keep our rich cultural heritage alive?”

You both chuckle and you add,” I suppose in that respect, we should lord our calendar about to strengthen our resolve to keep humanity strong.”

And, in fact, you do. In an embarrassingly artsy display, the two of you tape together note book paper so you can painstakingly transfer her student planner’s six inch squared yearly calendar into a monstrous one where each month is four pages wide and three long. When you have the year’s remaining months taped up to various walls, the two of you sit back and admire your work.

It’s silly and dumb, but somehow it’s really relieving. If you were writing in your psychological journal, you might cite humanity’s need for normalcy or showing defiance to your oppressors, but it also just might be having fun and making something with someone you care about.

Sleep seems the natural course of action as the sun finally rests and the moon is slowly making its way towards its zenith. You’ve closed all the curtains, checked all your traps, and it’s time to curl up in bed and await a new day of doing not much.

~~  
~~

Your aunt is predictably irritable when you bring her water and oatmeal. She complains about how she couldn’t sleep worth a damn, and her eyes look dark and red from being rubbed at. She’s a lot more coherent than yesterday though, and that means she can chew you out better for causing her condition regardless it wasn’t you who started it.

You take it all in stride as she loses her concentration here and there and forgets she’s yelling at you, only to resume a few minutes later. With how exhausted she is, you try not to take it personally.

“How is she?” Roxy asks when you finally come out of her room.

You try to smile, but it doesn’t feel very convincing when you answer,” She’s doing great.”

“This is all my fault,” she moans as she collapses on the couch. “You’re right, I never think it all through.”

You shrug and say,” You were right, actually. We couldn’t let her go on being drunk. I think aliens are coming our way slowly.” It’s kind of horrifyingly amazing how nonchalantly that last sentence makes its way into the list of real sentences you said and meant.

“Is their UFO closer again today?” She sits up and peers at you as you check outside.

You hum an affirmative tone as you find the black spot on the horizon. It looks twice as large as it did three days ago. You’re not really sure how far away it is. With the dense forest that used to be your surroundings, you never got a sense for gazing miles and gauging the distance.

You both stay quiet for a while before she asks,” Do you think they’re going to kill us.”

“I think they’ll try.”

“Why are they doing all of this?”

You know it’s rhetorical, but you whisper,” I wish I knew.”

Your stomach turns as you feel powerless.


End file.
